


Resonance

by Falon1224



Series: Secret Scandal One Shots [1]
Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Mostly Smut, One Shot Collection, Oral Sex, Smut, Some Fluff, a lot of smut, actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 20:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20766158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falon1224/pseuds/Falon1224
Summary: A collection of UtaPri one shots that literally no one asked for... Well, okay, like one person asked for them...Okay they asked for one that isn't in here yet.Anyway! So yeah, I guess I'm gonna be doing this every so often. Tags will change with each one shot that gets posted. I hope you all enjoy, and feel free to leave suggestions if you enjoy what you've read! The only requirement is that the characters are acting in secrecy: hence the title of the series.





	Resonance

It starts off small: fleeting glances that always seemed to last just a little too long. Catching one another's eyes in the wall to wall mirrors of the practice rooms, only to quickly look away. Sometimes, it was the gentle brush of hands, quickly pulled away with muttered apologies. Always drawn away too quickly for the other’s liking.  
For Masato, he only began to notice this fairly recently. During an interview for their upcoming cross section, he had been uncharacteristically nervous. Even now, Masato could not fathom where that sudden wave of anxiety had come from: leaving him pale faced and stammering slightly during their questions.  
Tokiya, who had been seated to his right that day, noticed right away. His stormy blue eyes laden with concern as he glanced at him more than once. Unbeknownst to anyone, even the rest of STARISH seated around them, Tokiya has laid his hand over Masato’s. His long, slender fingers loosely wrapping around under his palm. The subtle, tender brush of his thumb over Masato’s knuckles felt like the cooling rush of water over his nerves. Allowing him to take the slow, steadying breaths he needed to get through the interview without incident.  
After that, he and Tokiya had never spoken about it. Silently agreeing that it would be best to forget the incident and move on with their work. They only had a certain amount of time to focus on their cross section project before its debut. 

So why… Now during the performance, of all things, was Masato thinking about it?  
His fingers moving across the piano keys as he watched Tokiya out of the corner of his eye. Royal blue and violet lights shining brightly down on them in time with their song. His brain on autopilot-harmonizing perfectly with his parts of Original Resonance.  
Every time he looked up from the piano, his eyes seemed to find Tokiya. Watching as his free hand would move through half the motions of their choreography. They had spent the better half of a week planning it, only to be told at the last minute that they would not need choreography.  
His eyes lingering almost a little too long as he watched the man’s slender hips sway with the music. Were Tokiya’s pants always that form fitting? He had not thought so, during their fitting. Nor did the other man mention anything about them being too tight.  
Masato, for once in his short career, was thankful for the dance belts they all wore whenever they performed. He thought, for a brief moment, that he would not need it, being seated at the piano through the duet. Thankfully, his foresight had told him otherwise.  
Part of him did not want the performance to ever end-he could probably watch Tokiya for hours, if he thought it would not make them both uncomfortable.  
As the lights dimmed and curtains neatly folded, Masato removed his microphone headset and sighed lightly. The sudden rush of adrenaline from the performance left him in a fine sheet of sweat, despite having sat still throughout their concert. Setting the headset down on the piano keys, he sighed lightly as he then placed his hands on his thighs. There was a subtle shake to them, he noticed, as his mind slowly came down from the rush of adrenaline from the performance.  
“Hijirikawa-San, good work today.” Tokiya’s soft, almost melodic voice caught him slightly off guard, having spent a few moments too long staring blankly at the ivory piano keys.  
Glancing up, he immediately met the other man’s steady gaze. His messy black hair slightly damp from the hot stage lights beating down on them for nearly two hours, on top of moving around the stage. He had already loosened his burgundy colored tie, and had worked open the top button on his shirt in an effort to cool down.  
Masato tried, he truly did, to keep his gaze off of Tokiya’s porcelain pale neck; watching intently as a bead of sweat slipped down his skin, slipping past the collar of his shirt.  
“Ah… You too, Ichinose-San. I’m glad everything went well, tonight.” He replied calmly.  
Tokiya offered a small smile as he handed his microphone off to the nearest stagehand. It was the most relaxed he had seen the man since the announcement of their cross section. Now that it was over, they could both have a sigh of relief. The past few days had been particularly stressful: as they had each requested to oversee stage setup and be at every sound check, on top of their regular work. For an average person, it would be difficult to sleep under such circumstances.  
Such was the life of an idol… They were more than accustomed to long hours, and strict schedules.  
“Ichinose-San! Hijirikawa-San! The staff are getting together to go drinking! Do you want to come along?” One of the lighting engineers called out from across the stage. A large coil of black cable wrapped tightly over her shoulder as she continued to gather more from the stage floor.  
The pair looked to one another as they considered her offer. While it was not at all unusual for them to be invited to go drinking after a show, they generally made arrangements to do so before the performance started. 

“Should we?” 

“I… actually have something I wanted to talk with you about.” Tokiya replied.  
Masato tilted his head slightly to the side in slight perplexion. He had made no mention of this beforehand. Was there something wrong? Or perhaps he simply wanted to discuss the performance, and formulate a plan on how to improve for the next live.  
That certainly sounded like something Tokiya would want to do. His dedication to his work was something to be admired.  
“Ah, of course.” He replied after a moment of thought. His attention then went back to the young woman.  
“We’ll pass, this time. Please apologize to the stage manager for us.”  
She offered a quick smile and nodded her head, before turning focus back to her work. Luckily, their production team this time was understanding, and would not be too upset that they had refused the offer.  
Masato carefully slid off the plush bench, brushing the wrinkles out of his clothes as he stood up straight.  
Wasting no time, Tokiya motioned for the young pianist to follow him further backstage. Though he was not in much of a hurry, Masato thought he noticed an unusual tension in Tokiya’s shoulders.  
Deciding it was either his imagination, or simply an after effect of his adrenaline leveling out, he followed the other man’s lead with no questions.  
Brushing past stagehands and engineers as they hurried to disassemble the stage. He followed Tokiya around winding hallways, dodging every reporter and photographer that would be looking for them. Not that he could blame him, he supposed. They were both tired.  
As they wandered the main corridor, Tokiya led him towards the end of the vacant hallway-towards their shared dressing room. Dimly lit lights hung high in the rafters overhead-flickering ever so slightly with each passing moment.  
Masato stepped ahead of him, pushing the door to the dressing room open and allowing Tokiya in first. For as popular as the venue was, the room was fairly small. Containing only a couch big enough for two people, placed against the far wall. The small closet ahead of them housed their spare clothes, while they had placed their shoes underneath the makeup counter.  
The lights were much brighter in this room: their fluorescent waves bouncing off the pale blue tile to give the room and almost painfully bright appearance.  
“What did you-” Masato did not have time to finish the sentence as Tokiya turned to face him. As soon as the door closed behind them, he felt the warm, gentle press of fingers at the back of his neck. Using his free hand, the singer pushed Masato’s back flush against the cold surface of the door.  
Without giving the pianist time to react, Tokiya pressed his lips against his partner’s. His pulse thrumming rhythmically in his ears as he slowly moved against the other man. Trailing his fingers up the back of his neck to take a gentle handful of soft, dark hair.  
A sense of relief washed over his shoulders-both from Masato’s lack of resistance, and from being able to kiss him after having thought about it since the interview for their cross section.  
“Ichi-” Masato tried as he pulled away from the kiss, inadvertently hitting the back of his head on the door. It hurt for a brief moment, only to be gently soothed by the singer’s gentle fingers. He braced his hands over Tokiya’s shoulders, biting back the softest moan as he felt soft press of teeth at the shell of his ear.  
“Shh…”  
Masato shivered against the soothing breath, his back arching off the door and pressing intimately against the firm body pinning him there.  
Where was all this coming from? He had no inclination Tokiya might have harbored this bizarre feeling towards him-believing it to be purely one sided on his part. He would not be so quick to call it a feeling of affection, rather a twisted curiosity.  
He found the singer to be quite interesting, beneath the admiration he had for him.  
There was a soft bite to his neck, just above the collar of his shirt, bringing him out of his thoughts in a hurry. Using the hold on Tokiya’s shoulders as leverage, he spun the shorter man around and pinned him against the wall.  
Stormy blue eyes stared up at him, silently wondering if he had overstepped his boundaries. His scarlet colored blush, no doubt, mirrored on Masato’s own cheeks. The rational part of his senses told him to try and diffuse the situation-get some sort of explanation out of Tokiya… Anything other than crash their lips together in a searing kiss-one more demanding than Tokiya could have possibly imagined.  
The young singer did little to hold back the sigh of relief he breathed against Masato’s feathery soft lips. His hands wandered the planes of his body, before coming to rest on the lapels of his crisp, white jacket. Taking fistfuls of cloth as he greedily pushed his tongue past the haphazard barrier of Masato’s lips.  
In turn, the pianist shifted his hold on his partner, timidly allowing his hands to settle on the sharp wings of Tokiya’s hip bones. His thumbs traced small circles over the bone, meeting the singer’s warmth halfway.  
Tokiya patiently led him through the motions: creating a passionate dance between them of soft, unspoken emotions neither would ever think to voice out loud. It was an idol’s job to sing out the feelings of the heart-enchanting thousands of others just like them with their song. However, there were some things that were better left unsung; allowing the heart and body to speak through actions, rather than words.  
Masato sighed a breathy moan as Tokiya wrapped his arms over his shoulders. The feel of soft fingers in his hair pulling him down, pressing their lips impossibly closer… Of the slightly shorter body melting against him… Masato found himself willing to be swept away by his heart’s newfound fire.  
It was Tokiya’s turn to break the kiss, pulling away enough to put a hair’s breadth between them. A thin trail of saliva connected their lips, as they panted for much needed air. His heart hammered in his ears… Or was that Masato’s he was hearing?  
The subtle brush of lips with each breath had his head spinning. The pianist hands slowly working around to the small of his back acted as an anchor: telling him that this was actually happening.  
“Hijir-” The rest of his partner’s name died on the back of his throat as Masato closed the gap between them, licking slowly into his mouth. The faintest trace of orchids lingered on the dark strands of hair clutched so desperately in his fingers. Tokiya was dizzy with the warmth the pianist surrounded him with.  
He shivered against the taller man as he, almost timidly, slipped his right hand down to the curve of his ass.  
“Ichinose-San… We should…”  
Tokiya silenced him with a quick kiss, softly catching his bottom lip with his teeth as he pulled away. He could already guess what the other man was trying to say: that they should stop. Or that this was a bad idea, they were friends, and part of the same idol group. As part of their contract, they were strictly prohibited from having relationships unless they wanted to be immediately let go.  
A smart decision would be to stop-to quit while they were ahead and have some hope of brushing this off with little more than half hearted, awkwardly spoken apologies.  
Unfortunately for them, it seemed that thought was a far cry from anything sensible in their haze.  
Tokiya moves his hands from Masato’s hair to his shoulders, quickly pushing him further back in the dressing room. Surprisingly, the pianist went willingly, even as the back of his knees hit the small sofa in their haste to sit him down.  
“We really should try and stop…” Tokiya huffed against his partner’s lips. He braced his hands on the back of the sofa, caging Masato to it at each shoulder. 

“Hm. Probably.” Though that was what Masato said, his hands made quick work of the silver buttons holding his jacket closed. Tilting his head up slightly, he caught the singer’s lips in one more kiss.  
With hasty hands, they worked the pianist out of his jacket, tossing it haphazardly over the arm of the sofa. Tokiya loosened the dark red tie, before undoing the top buttons on his partner’s shirt. Stormy blue eyes followed the subtle dips in the porcelain skin as it was slowly revealed.  
Masato caught his shoulder just as he leaned down towards him.  
“No marks..” 

Tokiya smiled lightly, placing a gentle kiss at the base of his jaw. 

“No marks.” He agreed. Much as he wanted to leave at least one, it would cause them nothing but trouble.  
Instead, he pressed a few more kisses down the porcelain pale column of his throat. Slowly sliding down to the icy, pale blue tile.  
“What are you-”

“Shh…” The singer soothed as agile fingers made quick work of Masato’s belt.  
“Just keep your voice down.”  
With that, he undid the button on his pants and slid the zipper down. His fingers traced feather light over the waistline of the pale white dance belt, carefully working the soft fabric of his partner’s slacks down to just above the underside of his rear. The feeling of nylon against his fingers seemed foreign, almost scratchy as he stared up at Masato.  
Half expecting to be pushed away, he was quite surprised to feel a timid hand brush through his messy hair. Long, slender fingers curled around the strands, finding comfort and purchase in the softness there.  
Tokiya’s hands braced on the pianists hips as he pressed a hot kiss to the skin just above the dance belt. He felt the muscles tense beneath each press of his lips; nipping every so often against the pale, sensitive skin.  
“Can you raise your hips for me?” Tokiya’s soft, melodic voice felt strange against him.  
Masato did as he asked, using the arms of the sofa to lift his body up just enough for the singer to grasp the dance belt and slowly slide it down his slender legs.  
The brush of cool air against heated skin drew a quiet moan from Masato’s tightly sealed lips. Cerulean eyes dared only look at Tokiya for a moment before finding the pale tile to the left of the sofa.  
Tokiya pressed a soft, warm kiss to the base of the pianist’s member. His teeth worried a small mark there, only to be quickly soothed by more kisses. Masato had said no marks, but… What was the harm in leaving one here: a place where no one else would see? His grip on his partner’s hips tightened ever so slightly, feeling him arch away at the foreign sensation.  
“Ichi-Ah!” Masato’s words ended in a high pitched cry as Tokiya offered but a single kiss to the tip of his member a moment before taking him into his mouth. Warm and velvet soft as he slowly bobbed his head up and down.  
Dark eyes peered up at him from beneath pillowy, carefully curled lashes. The warmth of Tokiya’s tongue writhing against him overrode anything resembling a rational thought. His mind hazy-focusing only only on the movements of Tokiya’s mouth. Slender fingers tangled in the soft, expertly styled hair.  
The singer moaned softly around him with each tightening of Masato’s fingers. His right hand resting firmly on slender hips to control the pace. There was a slight saltiness to his taste, though not enough to be unpleasant. Rather, Tokiya found himself willingly swept away by the racing of the pulse lying so intimately over his tongue. He suckled the warm member gently, slowly milking thick drops of precome that he eagerly drank down.  
He felt every twitch and shiver that shot through Masato’s spine; heard every moan and sigh he so desperately tried to stifle with the back of his hand. His voice was so erotic, Tokiya could feel his own body stir and harden to the point of pain. He palmed at himself once or twice, his own hips arching to seek some much needed friction.  
“I-Ichinose... ”  
Masato chewed on his lower lip as embarrassment muddled his alabaster cheeks at the sound of his own voice. It was too much and too little all at once. His mind telling him to pull Tokiya off him for fear of his own reactions, while his hips restlessly jerked beneath the firm grasp with each teasing lick. A foreign warmth wrapped tightly over his body like a coil, heightening the sensation of the singer’s mouth.  
Tokiya was pressuring him-chasing him towards the brink of the unknown. Every moan felt like an electric shock that started at the bottom of his spine, and raced up every vertebrae. His mouth a warm, velvety soft cavern Masato would willingly lose himself to.  
Braving a glance down, he felt his breath halt in his lungs at the sight before him. Tokiya’s lips slightly red and swollen as they parted over his member. His cheeks stained a deep ruby red as he moaned lowly around him. The waistline of his own pants and dance belt had been pushed down to give himself some relief. Tokiya’s free hand wrapped around his own rigid, straining cock as lines of thick, milky pearls slipped over his fingers to pool on the tiles.  
The warmth in him snapped at the sight, sending waves of cascading arcs of pleasure down his spine. Masato could truthfully say he had never experienced an orgasm before; the few times he had ever tried, he found himself concerned by how strange his own body felt, and how his pulse would pound so vigorously in his ears. Leaving him without the slightest idea of how his voice would escape him in a loud, stuttering groan as Tokiya continued to pleasure him through the unfamiliar sensations ripping through his body.  
His grip on Tokiya’s hair tightened to the point of pain as his vision blurred in sparks of white at the edge of his line of sight. He came so quickly he had no time to even think to warn the man below him. Ribbons of white slipped messily passed the barrier of Tokiya’s lips-dripping to the tile with a soft patter he almost could not hear above the ringing in his ears. 

“S-Sorry..” He breathed heavily as he finally released his hold on his partner’s hair. It was only when he flinched in oversensitivity that Tokiya finally pulled his mouth away from him. His dark hair clung to his face in damp curls-pupils still wide with unabashed affection as he placed a tender kiss to Masato’s hip. 

“It’s okay.”  
With that, he laid his head down on the pianist's thigh, his stormy eyes staring up at him with a sleepy sort of reverence Masato would have never expected from him. His slightly reddened lips formed a soft, pleased smile of reassurance. There was a silence about the room as they slowly steadied their breathing. Not one of awkwardness, or regret: rather, it was a silence of contentment. A silence of comfort that, surely, only lovers would share.  
“I-Ichinose-san?”

“Hm?” Tokiya’s eyes fluttered open, as though he were on the verge of falling asleep in his current position. There was no way that could be comfortable. 

“Should I… Well... ” Masato’s cheeks muddled red once again as he struggled to find the right words. How was he meant to say this without sounding like a complete fool? Was there a subtle way? Or should he just come out and ask if he should…

“Return the favor, I suppose?” He finally settled on after several moments of careful consideration. 

“Eh? Oh! You… Don’t have to.”  
Masato felt rather dejected at his answer, almost enough to visibly show on his face. Tokiya had already done so much for him, it did not seem fair to leave him hanging while he collected himself. As it stood, he would most likely be asleep within a few minutes. 

“But.. You’re still-”  
Tokiya cut him off as he brought the hand he had stroked himself with up for inspection. The same substance dripped carelessly over the palm of his hand, threatening to stain the fabric of his own jacket.  
“Seeing you like that… I couldn’t help myself.” 

“Ah… Next time, then?”

Tokiya blushed at his question. Next time? He wanted this again?! Not that he could find it in himself to complain. Rather, he was half expecting Masato to never want to speak to him again, after this. For him to take such a tentative step, and ask him such a risque question… He would have to be out of his mind to refuse. 

“Definitely next time.”


End file.
